


Supernatural Drabbles 2020

by sammy_whammy_whumperflies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby is Sam's home but Baby belongs to Dean, Baby is a good girl, Baby loves her boys, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Bobby Singer is Dean and Sam Winchester's Parent, Brady is a good friend, But this is primarily Sam and Dean, Cas breaking Sam's Wall missing scene, Castiel is a Little Shit, Claustrophobia, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean Winchester had a lot of responsibilities growing up, Dean Winchester hugs Sam when he needs it, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Dean Winchester is a good big brother, Dean Winchester is a terrible patient, Dean Winchester sings "Hey Jude", Dean was an obedient soldier, Delirium, Drowning, Fainting, Fever, Football | Soccer Player Sam Winchester, Gen, Hidden Injury, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John listens sometimes, Magda Peterson deserved better, Mary Winchester's A+ Parenting, Missing Scene, One Word Prompts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other characters will occasionally pop up, Panic Attacks, Passing Out, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Tries, Sam Winchester Whump, Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester went hungry, Sam Winchester is a Good Little Brother, Sam Winchester loves kale lol, Sam Winchester loves marshmallows, Sam Winchester works himself too hard, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Wall, Sam calls Dean "Dee", Sam finds out about Magda, Sam loves Ladyheart, Sam missed Dean at Stanford, Sam mourning Dean, Sam protects Dean, Samulet (Supernatural), Seizures, Sick Sam Winchester, Sully is a good friend, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Whump, Wordcount: 100, Wordcount: 100-500, driver picks the music, they were never in fact homeless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 15,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammy_whammy_whumperflies/pseuds/sammy_whammy_whumperflies
Summary: Each chapter will be a different100-150 worddrabble(okay less than 200 is my new goal lol)(nope couldn't do it, gotta aim for less than 500 hahaha oh no), each with their own one word prompt.Aiming to do one for every day this year.We'll see how it goes :DAlso this is primarily a whump writer, so...expect primarily whump and/or hurt/comfort. I also like fluff, so there'll be lots of that too.UPDATE 9/2:Alright, the new (final) goal is to post new drabbles twice a week.  One every day has been way too stressful to even consider, so I've decided to cut wayyyyy back.  Don't worry all, I've got tons of ideas, so I'll probably do this again next year too =3  Also feel free to send me prompt ideas?!  Gen only please but otherwise the sky's the limit, honestly =D
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 84





	1. Abilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "abilities"
> 
> Today's warnings: blood tw
> 
> Today's word count: 112

"Sam. You've gotta stop doing this, man."

Dean held a handkerchief over Sam's lower face, trying desperately to slow the blood streaming from his brother's nose.

Sam's hands were otherwise occupied, gripping his head tightly as his eyelids fluttered, eyes squeezed shut against the migraine levels of agony pulsing through his skull.

Dean had just witnessed Sam throwing out his hands to catch a chandelier in midair after it was ripped from the ceiling by this week's poltergeist, narrowly saving his big brother from becoming a smear on the floor of the old mansion.

"...So how many abilities do you even have now, Professor X?"

Sam chuckled weakly. "Jus' th'two s'far, D'n."


	2. Arson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "arson"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 121

"I can't believe you torched the whole damn house, Dean!"

"What else was I supposed to do, Sam?!"

The brothers paused their whispered bickering as footsteps approached, and immediately resumed their hushed argument as soon as the intruder moved away.

"Dude, you _knew_ the cops were watching this place."

"As far as I'm concerned, if we get pulled in for arson, I say we tell 'em those ghosthunter guys did it. Serve those idiots right for screwing up our plan."

More footsteps neared and the two brothers tensed, weapons at the ready, until their hiding place was secure once more.

"You could have waited another _five minutes—_ "

"Yeah, and ended up reattaching your head with duct tape and dental floss!"


	3. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "birthday"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 100

"Up and at 'em!"

Sam rolled away, groaning into his pillow.

"C'mon, Sam, it's time to get up!"

"Noooo..."

"Well, then, I guess I'll have to eat all of this cereal _all by myself_." The unmistakable sound of a crinkling cereal bag echoed in the room, and Sam's head shot up off his pillow immediately.

"No fair, that's _mine_!" Laughing, he leapt out of bed and snatched the cereal box away.

"Alright, alright, it's only fair that you get to eat your favorite cereal on your birthday."

Sam grinned. "Thanks, Sully! Do you want some, too?"

"You know it, Sam!"


	4. Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "bleed"
> 
> Today's warnings: blood tw
> 
> Today's word count: 145

Dean crammed himself into the tiny Focus they'd stolen the week before with a contented sigh. "Even this piece of shit can't make me feel bad today."

Sam had just slammed the trunk shut and was sliding his enormous body into the car when Dean heard a loud thud, followed by the too-easily-recognizable sound of his brother hitting the pavement.

"Sammy?!" Dean pulled himself across the passenger seat, only to see Sam sitting up outside the open door, both hands squeezing the top of his head. Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth in sympathy.

"You bleedin'?"

Sam gingerly removed his hands, showing his brother the red coating them. "Looks like it."

Dean huffed a laugh, handing Sam a handkerchief.

"Only you could manage to bleed all over the place after finishing the easiest hunt we've ever been on."

Sam groaned. "Shut up, Dean."


	5. Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "believe"
> 
> Today's warnings: cursing
> 
> Today's word count: 138

"Shhh Sammy, don't cry. Did you know there's a bunny that hides choc'late? Mommy said so."

* * *

"Sammy! Sammy wake up! The Easter Bunny was here!"

* * *

"Dean! Dean wake up! The Easter Bunny was here!"

* * *

"Dean, how did the Easter Bunny know I like white choc'late better? I only told you that."

"Shut up and eat your chocolate, Sam."

* * *

"Wow, I can't believe the Easter Bunny found us all the way out here in the woods!"

* * *

"Dean, enough is enough. Sam is 11 years old for Christ's sake. Quit lying to your brother. Sam, there's no goddamn Easter Bunny. It's time to believe in the real shit that's out there. Like the monster that killed your mother."

"Yessir."

"...Yessir."

* * *

"Shhh Sammy, don't cry. You know November 2nd is a bad day for Dad. I'm sorry I lied to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the word "believe" reminded me of the scene in 10x12 when Sam and Dean have a brother's spat about how Sam still believed in the Easter Bunny until he was "12." "11." "And a half." "And a half, right." And the exactness of the age that they both agreed on really struck me, because,
> 
> 1\. It's canon that Dean did his best to keep Sam a kid as long as he could (2x22) so of course he would have kept going with something as innocent as the Easter Bunny as long as possible (even though he spoiled Santa right away lol)
> 
> 2\. 11½ is significant because six months after Sam's birthday is the day Mary died, and I'm pretty sure John would've at least gotten mean if not drunk off his ass around that time every year. So...11½. Both remembered the age because of how Sam would've found out :|


	6. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "broken"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 175

  
"ShiiiIIIIT!"

At the sound of his brother's startled cry, Sam dropped the book he'd been reading and slammed through the front door. "Dean?! What--" He trailed off as he caught sight of his brother, sitting in an awkward position at the base of Bobby's porch.

"You okay, man? What happened?"

Dean's answer came through clenched teeth. "What do you _think_ happened? I slipped on the damn ice!"

Sam swallowed a smile at his brother's obstinance. "You hurt at all?"

"No, I just felt like making a snow angel with my ass, Sam."

Sam couldn't quite bite back his sigh, and gingerly stepped down to kneel at his side. He noticed his brother was gripping his left knee, and he winced in sympathy. "Is it broken?"

"I think I just wrenched it. I'm trying to work up to getting up and back inside."

Sam huffed. "Here, let me help." He firmly gripped his brother under the arms. "Ready? Don't put weight on it."

"Okay, okay. Just get it over with."

"On three. One, two--"

"Waitwaitwaitwai--"

"Three!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey this happened to me yesterday, that's why this chapter is late lol


	7. Confess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "confess"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 160

"I'm sorry. Dee I'm so sorry...sorry..."

Dean grimly held his brother down on the bed, wiping his too-hot forehead with a thin motel washcloth.

"I didn't drink any...I swear Dee. Don't...never liked it. Gross."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he wanted to hear this. "Sam..."

"Dean!" Sam sat bolt upright, startling Dean into dropping the washcloth. Sam's eyes were shining with fever but looked clearer than they had for hours. "Dean I did it for you. To save you. Always for you."

Sam kept steady, determined eye contact until his eyes slipped closed and he collapsed back to the bed, energy spent.

"Didn't...didn't drink Dee. Did it for you. For you Dee. For you..."

Dean sighed, blinking misty eyes. "I know, Sam. It's okay." He leaned over and rested his forehead on Sam's, feeling the hot dry skin warming his.

Smiling shakily, he whispered, "Why do you always confess this stuff when you're so sick you won't even remember it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I firmly believe Sam called/calls Dean "Dee" :b


	8. Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "space"
> 
> Today's warnings: claustrophobia tw
> 
> Today's word count: 180

"It's like digging through frickin' play dough!"

It sounded like Dean's voice was coming from underwater, and Sam felt a surge of terror rip through him.

He didn't bother answering, just continued scooping his hands into the mound in front of him.

There was a pause.

"You still there, Sam?"

Crap.

"Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought." His own voice felt like it was slamming into his head before the sound dissipated from the small space.

"Better be the only way you get lost in here, Sasquatch."

Sam shuddered. It was pitch black in this tiny jutout of the mine they'd been searching, but he already knew the mound of dusty clay in front of him was his only way out.

"Please hurry, Dean," he heard himself plead.

The digging sounds on the other side started going faster without further comment from his brother.

Within moments, a hand erupted through the wall, bringing with it light that made him squint and air he hadn't realized was getting thin and a comforting firm grasp that he clung to fiercely.

"I've gotcha, Sammy."


	9. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "caught"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 183

Sam was trembling.

His breaths were coming out in shaky pants.

He heard footsteps approaching, and he covered his mouth with both hands in an attempt to smother any noise he was making.

The blanket was thrown up from the edge of the bed, and Sam screamed.

"Found you!"

Giggling, Sam kicked his way out from under the bed. "My turn!"

Dean checked his watch and shook his head. "Not yet, Sammy. You still get to hide, okay?"

"Okay!"

Dean stood with his face against the motel room door, covering his ears and counting loudly.

"Here comes the Monster!"

He heard a squeal that was quickly stifled, and he checked his watch again before following the sound.

This time Sam was in the bathtub.

* * *

"What was his best time?"

"Almost two minutes, Sir."

"That's not good enough, Dean. He has to learn to keep quiet enough that you can get a shot off without anything knowing he's there. If the monsters know he's there, he'll get caught."

"Yes sir."

Dean climbed into bed next to Sam, holding him close. They'd practice again tomorrow.


	10. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "water"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 339

“Are you sure he’ll like it, Mommy?”

Mary smiled down at her eldest. “I’m sure Sam will try anything as long as he has his big brother showing him how to be brave.”

Dean puffed out his chest, gripping his baby brother’s pudgy hand as his mother gently placed Sam in the kitchen sink.

“Bath time, Sammy!”

Dean giggled as Sam kicked his feet in the water, splashing both of them.

* * *

“Wait, Sam! I gotta make sure it isn’t too hot!”

Sam gripped the side of the tub, bouncing up and down. “Hurry up, Dee!”

“Okay, okay!” Dean stuck his hand in the water, scowling half-heartedly.

“Well?!”

“Bath time, Sammy!”

Sam jumped into the tub with a whoop, and Dean made sure to lock the bathroom door of the motel room before he climbed in after him.

* * *

“Hold your breath!”

Sam’s legs immediately clenched around Dean’s chest from where he sat on his brother’s shoulders, and he tangled his fingers in Dean’s short hair almost painfully.

“No no no nooooo!”

“One, two…”

“Nooooo!”

“Bath time, Sammy!”

Tightly gripping his squealing brother’s legs, Dean threw himself backwards into the pool.

* * *

Dean gently lowered his brother down onto the floor, balancing his limp body against his own.

“Jess…no, Jess….”

Dean closed his eyes briefly. “It’s okay, Sam. Hold on.” He tested the water with his hand, nodded, and brushed sweat-soaked hair out of his brother’s eyes. 

“Bath time, Sammy.”

Hefting his brother’s considerable weight into the tub, he immediately grasped him firmly as Sam started thrashing in the cool water.

* * *

Dean’s story cut off abruptly as the nurse came into the room, and he turned his full attention to her and what she was carrying.

Without a word, he held out his hands for the items, and the nurse nodded silently, knowing this was a fight she wouldn’t win.

“Bath time, Sammy.”

He wrung out the washcloth and gently started to wipe down his brother. The heart rate monitor continued to beep, and Sam didn’t stir once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I use my laptop to type up a chapter instead of my phone xD a chapter that's TWICE AS LONG AS IT SHOULD BE. But in my defense I like the whole thing so I'm gonna leave it as is.


	11. Amulet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "amulet"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 280

During a lull in their morose discussion, Bobby suddenly snapped his fingers, making both boys startle. “That’s what it is!”

“What?”

Bobby shrugged, taking a sip of beer. “I was trying to figure out what’s different about you, ‘cause it sure ain’t your beautiful hair.”

Dean subconsciously ran a hand through his hair before glancing at Sam. Sam hadn’t looked up at them much during the conversation, he realized absently, and he’d certainly been avoiding eye contact with Dean. He sighed and turned back to his beer. “Just spit it out, Bobby.”

“Where’s your amulet?”

Dean choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just started swallowing. Sam kept silent, knuckles white around his own beer bottle.

The room was uncomfortably quiet once Dean recovered, and after a few minutes of tense silence had passed and Dean still hadn’t answered, Sam stood up and left the room.

They watched him leave, and after the bedroom door shut upstairs, Bobby raised his eyebrows at Dean.

Dean looked stricken. “I just got so pissed, Bobby. Cas said it was worthless, and Sam’s really been pissing me off, and our Heaven was all kinds of screwed up, and I just…I threw it away.”

Bobby kept silent, watching him, and Dean inhaled a shaky breath, his gut constricting as he replayed his own words in his head.

“I threw it away. Right in front of Sammy. And then I just left him there. And I didn’t think about it then but when he finally got into the car….” He looked at Bobby desperately. “…he just looked so _defeated_ , Bobby.”

Bobby didn’t say a word, just looked pointedly upstairs before taking another drink of his beer.


	12. Lethargic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "lethargic"
> 
> Today's warnings: vomit tw
> 
> Today's word count: 300

Dean snapped awake. Something was wrong. He blinked, trying to focus and ignore the sirens outside when his fuzzy brain cleared and he realized those weren't sirens.

"Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam was sitting hunched up on the bed, wailing. Dean did a once over with his eyes, concerned. His brother had never cried like this before. "Sammy?"

Sam turned to look at him. "Dee..."

Before either of them could do anything else, something came pouring out of Sam's mouth.

Dean scrambled to turn on the light, horrified. The dark substance looked like blood. " _SAMMY_!"

The light showed him that the three-year-old had just thrown up his dinner all over himself and the bed. Sam was petrified, staring at what he'd just done, before he started screaming.

Dean, temporarily frozen in relief that it was only vomit, kicked back into action at his brother's panicked sobs. He wet a washcloth and started cleaning Sam's face.

"It's okay, Sammy. Your tummy didn't want supper anymore. Does your tummy hurt still?"

Sam nodded, shaking in fear. "Deeeee!" He cried, clutching at his brother.

Dean gently pulled away. "I've gotta clean you up, Sammy." He quickly changed Sam's clothes, wrapped it all up in the dirty sheet, and laid down the comforter before putting his suddenly lethargic baby brother back into their bed.

"Sammy? You feeling better?" Dean rubbed his hand over Sam's clammy forehead.

Sam shook his head. "Owie tummy, Dee." He hiccupped quietly, tears streaming down his face.

Dean's heart broke. "Sammy, it'll be okay." He cradled his baby brother in his arms. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow."

Sam snuggled into Dean's chest, heaving a hitching breath before his body began to relax, still twitching with exhausted sobs.

Dean started gently rocking Sam, softly humming a melody he barely remembered.


	13. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "grief"
> 
> Today's warnings: panic attack tw
> 
> Today's word count: 285

After they’d seen Rowena off and were finally ready to leave, Sam couldn’t resist one final dig at Dean about the car keys. He smirked and started to climb into the car when his breath stuttered and it hit him that  _ Dean had forgotten his Baby. _

As soon as he slid into the Impala, it all slammed back into him again, only this time he felt like everything was crushing him all at once; the tears he’d barely held back all day, the all-encompassing despair that he’d be left alone and forgotten by the one person who really matters, the grief that Dean would die such a horrible death, that temporary yet everlasting moment when his mind had drawn a terrifying blank of his own and he’d run out of options to save his brother and his chest had swelled with horror and dread and panic and it was all because they’d tricked him with a cruel joke and it was all he could do to smile at them without collapsing to his knees—

“ _Breathe_ , Sam!”

There was a strike to his chest, and he sucked in a deep, gasping breath of air, and realized his face was wet with tears and his chest ached like he hadn’t taken a breath in minutes days hours Dean only had hours maybe minutes left—

“ _SAMMY_!”

Hands were gripping his head, and his vision flickered and a face he’d recognize anywhere at any time wavered into view and he choked on a sob, sinking his forehead down onto his big brother’s chest, arms weakly reaching for the hug he knew he’d get without any teasing, because this time it had been too close.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m here.”


	14. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "magic"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 257

"For my next trick, I—Dean, are you watching?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm watchin', I'm watchin'."

"For my next trick, I will make the magic knot!"

"Oooooooh." Dean rolled his eyes.

"First, I require a ring from a member of the audience."

Dean immediately shook his head.

"Aw, c'mon, Dean! You'll see it the whole time! It won't be like the coin trick, I promise!"

"Yeah, that's what you said about my favorite knife! AND our only deck of cards...."

Sam's ears turned red. "Deeeaaan!" I've been practicing this one, but I need a ring to make sure I got it right! Please?"

Dean made the mistake of turning his gaze directly into the full force of the puppy dog eyes. "Ugh, fine!" He stared at the ring on his finger for just a moment before pulling it off and handing it to Sam. "But _be_ _careful_ with it."

Sam looked at it curiously. "Why? What's the big deal?"

Dean hunched over in his chair, not meeting Sam's eyes. "It was Mom's," he answered softly.

"Oh...." Sam turned it around, inspecting it closely. There was a tiny engraving inside the ring, but it was too worn for him to read. "What did it say? Inside, here?"

" _J+M=D &S_. Mom showed it to me once. Dad had it done for her after you were born."

The boys were silent, each thinking about similar and different things. Eventually, Sam handed back the ring.

"For my next trick, I'll need a volunteer from the audience!"

Dean groaned, but raised his hand anyway.


	15. Limp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "limp"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 367

“Dean, watch out!”

Sam covered his eyes as the room lit up with a blinding flash.

“ _Dean_!” As soon as he verified the room was all-clear, Sam rushed to his brother’s side, giving the sigils painted all over the floor a wide berth. Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t been so lucky, and had trodden on the edge of one just as Sam had shouted a warning to him.

Dean was currently spread-eagled on the floor, and as Sam gave him a visual once-over, he was relieved to see that his big brother was not only breathing steadily, but his eyes were open and tracking his movements.

“Dean?”

“Sammy? I can’t move.” Dean’s voice sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Sam blinked at him. “You can’t move? Like…at all?”

Dean’s face twitched, and Sam had the distinct impression that he would have been on the receiving end of a heated glare if his brother could control his facial muscles.

“No, I just felt like lying here and taking a nap. Of _course_ not at all! Now do something!”

Sam snorted and stood up, heading toward the witch’s altar, hoping she’d have some sort of counter spell readily available. Halfway there he paused, then headed back, flipping his knife out and scratching the very edge of the sigil cautiously. It flashed with a dimmer glow than the first time, but nothing else happened.

“Did that work?” He reached out and pulled his brother up carefully, leaning him against the wall.

Dean scrunched up his face, and looked relieved as he started moving his body in spurts as he tested one part at a time. “Looks like it.”

Sam felt like he could breathe again, and he slapped Dean’s gun back into his brother’s hand before helping him to his feet. Dean remained standing on his own, but the arm with his gun suddenly dropped to his side, and the handgun fell to the floor.

Sam couldn’t hold back his laugh as he bent for the gun again, this time shoving it in the waistband of his jeans. “Looks like it might need time to wear off.”

Dean groaned, flopping his limp arm around petulantly. “This sucks. I hate witches!”


	16. Kale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "kale"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 208

Sam was in mourning.

He knew it was stupid, but he had feelings, too! He was genuinely sad about this, and he was really going to miss…

He shook his head, walking past the aisle. He knew better. If he even looked, Dean would find out about it somehow, and he’d never let him live it down.

But...

He backtracked a few steps, leaning backwards far enough to peek down the aisle again.

“ _I mean…God bless kale, am I right_?”

The voice, _his_ voice, no not _his_ voice, but okay _kind of_ his voice swirled around in his head, and his ears burned red with embarrassment. Even though that version of himself was no longer real, he _had_ been for a short amount of time. Enough to make him second guess some of his current life choices.

Speaking of…

He craned his neck down the produce aisle, weighing his options.

“… _Dammit!_ ”

He yanked his cart backwards, swung down the aisle, and used his long legs to his advantage to make this go as quickly as possible.

_Eyes on the prize. Eyes on the prize…_

With one last longing look at the kale, he grabbed a handful of romaine lettuce heads and continued on his way with a sigh.


	17. Torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "torn"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 399

“Dean, what are training wheels for?”

“They’re for bikes. Why?”

Sam shrugged evasively.

Dean put down his comic book. “Why, Sam?”

“Well…there’s these kids at school that said they don’t need training wheels anymore, and they laughed at me ‘cause I asked them what it was. That’s all.”

Dean had gone still and silent in that way that Sam immediately recognized as his big brother’s “something is wrong and I need to fix it” mode. Sam knew by now to leave Dean alone when he got like this, so he settled into the couch with his own comic book, letting Dean think.

As soon as Dean stopped staring off into space, he smiled at Sam reassuringly before moving to the kitchenette to start dinner. He didn’t speak another word about it.

That was the night before. When Sam woke up the next morning, Dean was gone, and he’d just started to freak out before spying his brother through the open curtains of the front window. To his surprise, Dean had been riding across the parking lot on a _bicycle_. 

Well, sort of. 

He’d already fallen about half a dozen times since Sam had started watching him, and he cringed every time. But Dean kept getting up and trying again, and eventually he was able to ride around the parking lot for a good ten minutes without falling once. 

He let out a whoop that Sam could hear through the window, and he replied with one of his own. Dean’s gaze immediately found Sam’s, and he aimed the bike towards their motel room, dismounting clumsily but thankfully staying on his feet.

He threw open the door, a huge grin on his face. “Come on, Sammy, your turn!”

Sam’s attention was immediately drawn to the torn out knees of his brother’s jeans, and the bloody ruin that was peeking through on both legs. He turned and ran to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit. Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, I’m fine! Come on, let’s go!”

“Go where? Dean, your knees!”

Dean shifted out of Sam’s grip, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Come _on_ , Sam! My kid brother’s gonna know how to ride a bike, whether you like it or not!”

Sam reluctantly let Dean drag him outside to the bicycle. “Where did you even get this? How long have you been out here practicing?”

Dean shrugged. “Big Brother Trade Secrets, Sammy.”


	18. Scholarship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "scholarship"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 479

Brady unlocked the door to the room, immediately dumping his heavy backpack to the floor with a contented sigh. His moment of relief was broken when his roommate’s head snapped up from his desk, followed immediately by jumping to his feet in a fighting stance.

“Whoa, Sam! Back off, it’s just me! What the— _shit_!” He dove forward, just barely catching Sam under the arms as he pitched forward without a sound. Grunting from the deadweight, he lowered Sam as carefully as he could to the floor, rolling him over onto his back.

“Hey, Sam? You okay?” He received no answer, but Brady relaxed a bit when he noticed that Sam was at least breathing. “Come on, Sam. Time to wake up, buddy.” He tapped Sam’s lax face gently, then more firmly when there was no response. “Sam. Wake up. _Sam_!”

Finally, Sam’s face twitched, and his eyebrows dipped into a frown.

“That’s it, Sam. Come on back.”

“D’n?”

Brady felt a twinge of regret that he wasn’t who Sam unconsciously wanted to see. “No, Sam. It’s Brady.”

Sam’s eyes blinked slowly open, tracked the room, and settled on his roommate’s concerned face. “Wha—“ He cleared his throat before trying again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Well, I think you owe _me_ an explanation more than I owe _you_ one…but I came in, you were sleeping at your desk… _again_ …and you startled awake, looked ready to beat the shit out of me, then keeled over.”

Sam remained silent.

“So. Gonna come clean?”

Sam broke eye contact, mumbling, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Brady sighed. “Sam. We’ve been over this! When’s the last time you ate something? When’s the last time you slept? _In your bed_?”

Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position, swatting at Brady’s hovering hands. “I’m _fine_ , Brady. It’s not the first time I’ve been a little hungry. Besides, I don’t have time to leave the room every time I want a snack. I’ve got two tests next week, and I’ve got a paper due in three days. Plus I’ve gotta keep studying for the LSAT.”

“The LSAT isn’t for another _THREE YEARS_ , Sam!”

Sam ignored Brady’s indignant squawk and continued, “My scholarship only gets me so far, Brady. And I’ve gotta keep my grades up to keep my scholarship.”

Brady stared at him for a few seconds. “Sam. That’s…that’s a lot to unpack, man. Are you _sure_ you don’t want to talk about—“

“No thanks, Brady.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Neither of them could make eye contact with the other.

Brady finally stood up. “So…I’m gonna go get some food. I’m _really_ _hungry_. And you’re gonna eat what I bring back for you, understand?”

Sam couldn’t look up at him from the floor, or else the tears flooding his eyes would be visible. Instead he cleared his throat and barely choked out a whispered, “Thanks, Brady.”


	19. Ruffle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "ruffle"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 220

Dean watched his brother lacing up his boots, and smiled at the way his pudgy little fingers slipped and fumbled the laces in their complicated dance around each other, dropping one altogether and sighing in that overly cranky way where he used his whole body to accentuate just how _frustrated_ he was now.

He looked up at Dean, lip wobbling and tears flooding his giant, blue-green puppy eyes. Dean's heart shattered in his chest, and he was just kneeling down to wipe those tears away and ruffle that fluffy hair--

"Dude. What are you staring at me for?"

Dean froze, blinking rapidly. Sammy was no longer four years old and failing at tying his little tennis shoes to go to the park. Sam was now twenty two fricking years old and lacing up his boots to go risk his life on a damn hunt.

Dean stood quickly from his place at the table, knocking his chair to the floor with a clatter. He cringed at the scene he was making and immediately turned his back on his brother, slinging the weapons bag over his shoulder.

"Come on, Sam! That ghost's not gonna gank itself!"

He rushed from the motel room to the temporary solitude of his Baby, leaving behind a very confused little brother to finish lacing up his boots.


	20. Adapt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "adapt"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 408

“P’ease, Dee! Cer’al!”

“No, Sammy, it’s all gone.”

“P’ease!”

“Sam, I can’t go buy more, Dad said I hafta stay here to p’tect you!”

“P’eeeeeeeaaaaaaase!”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “How about cartoons, Sammy? I think Ninja Turtles is on soon.”

Sam’s pouting face broke out into a smile. “Tur’les!”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

“Let’s get some Lucky Charms, Dean!”

“No, Sam, it’s too ‘spensive. Dad didn’t leave us much so we gotta get real food.”

“But what about breakfast?”

Dean turned away from Sam’s despondent face, right into the baking side of the aisle. “Look, Sammy, marshmallows in a jar! You could have it on toast or somethin’.”

Sam’s beaming smile was answer enough.

* * *

“How’s about…you ever eaten marshmallows?”

“Only about a whole bag every day! How about you, Sam?”

“Oh, I love ‘em! They’re my favorite! I used to get cereal but it’s too ‘spensive. Now we get the jar of fluff ‘cause it’s cheaper, but I like it better ‘cause we can add it to _anything_! I wanna try it on chips next, but Dean would kill me if I waste his snack like that.”

“Maybe someday you can try it anyway!”

“You think so, Sully?”

* * *

“Wow! Dean, ‘s so good! I wan’ more!”

Sam could barely speak through the huge mouthful of mac’n’marshmallows Dean had made for him. Dean had found a huge bulk box of mac ‘n’ cheese, but Sam had quickly grown bored of the same taste every night.

Dean was both pleased and proud. He’d had to adapt the recipe over and over again with dozens of ingredients, trying to find some way that Sam would agree to eat his dinner. Finally, as a joke, he’d added Sam’s favorite food instead of the cheese topping, and now the kid couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Not that Sam had to worry about sharing; Dean would rather stick to his mac’n’cheese with hot dogs and ketchup thank you very much.

* * *

Sam glanced at Dean, hesitating briefly before mumbling his order. The barista leaned forward with a confused smile, asking him to say that again please.

Blushing furiously, Sam repeated, “I’ll have a size venti s’mores frappuccino, please.”

Secretly beside himself with delight, Dean grinned. “Are you serious?! You still can’t resist a little bit of marshmallow every day?”

“Shut up, Dean!”

Dean chuckled. “How did you even know this crap exists?”

Sam’s face softened. “Jess loved them too.”


	21. Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "treasure"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 500

“This is important to me, Dad! The team is counting on me! We made it all the way to the finals! Can’t we stay for just one more week? _Please_?!”

“No, Sam. That’s selfish and you know it. Now go pack, we need to be out of here by dawn tomorrow.”

* * *

Dean whooped as Sam managed to outsmart the opposing team’s fullback yet again and score his third point of the game.

Sam took the time to make eye contact with his brother, looking happier than he’d been for weeks.

John kept his position behind the bleachers, his rage at finding the boys missing (even though he knew _exactly_ where they’d snuck off to) having immediately sizzled out of existence as soon as he actually saw Sam playing. He’d offhandedly expected Sam to be a defensive player; valuable as backup, but not relied on for brute strength or offense. This was the role Sam played in hunts, taking up the rear and watching their backs from the safer position behind the two eldest Winchesters.

But this was unexpected. Sam was playing _offense_. And not just offense, he was a _forward_. John knew a bit here and there about the game, but one thing he knew was that a forward position took a lot of technical skill. And Sam was easily cleaning the floor with his opponents. 

Sam was still very small for his age, but the kid was using it to his advantage. He ducked down to dodge and weave between the players, maneuvering the ball as smoothly as he moved during training sessions. And Sam really was a valuable asset to his team. The opposing team didn’t seem to know what to do with him, other than to send out their more stocky players to try and intimidate him.

As soon as John realized what they were attempting, he had to smother a laugh. Sam wasn’t scared of anything by now. And it was true; Sam eyed the players coolly before promptly dribbling the ball past them to score another goal. John felt a surge of pride. His scoffing at Sam’s interest in the game seemed ridiculous now; Sam was using everything he’d learned from hunting to excel on the field.

But he soon realized it was more than that. Sam held himself with a confidence that John rarely saw from his son. Sam was a natural, and John could only take credit for so much.

As the game finally ended, Sam’s team rushing the field to form a giant circle of screaming, bouncing kids, John slipped away with a thoughtful smile on his face.

* * *

And if he didn’t say a word about the new trophy sitting proudly on Sam’s dresser, and if he started allowing Sam to take point every once in a while, and if he eventually found the trophy hidden in the back of the Impala’s trunk and placed the forgotten treasure in his storage unit with a teary smile, that was his business.


	22. Bedridden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "bedridden"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 381

“Dean, lay down! What do you need?” Sam had just come out of the bathroom to see his brother gingerly lifting himself out of his bed, and he dropped the hand towel, rushing to push Dean back down.

“No, leave me alone, Sam!” Dean fought valiantly, but he was still weak from his surgery, so his struggles didn’t end up doing much. 

“Knock it off, Dean! You’ll rip your stitches!”

He threw his head back against his pillow, shouting through gritted teeth, “ _I can’t believe I have to stay here for another three dayyyyyyys_!” He looked up as he felt his brother’s hands pulling at the bandage wrapped around his calf. “Dude, get off of me.”

Sam bit his lip, continuing to unwrap Dean’s leg. “What if you ripped them open? I have to check.”

Dean sat up enough to push Sam’s hands away. “Dude, shut up about it, I’m fine!”

“But the doctor said—”

“Quit being a bitch! I know what the damn doctor said, but I’m bored out of my skull!”

Sam’s lips thinned. “Stop being a jerk, Dean. It’s not my fault your leg got infected!”

Dean rolled over with a huff, clearly sulking. “Yeah, yeah. Just…look at me! I’m bedridden like a little old lady who broke her damn hip!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s _bed rest_ , Dean. If you were bedridden, then yes, you would be like a little old lady.” He grinned and easily dodged the pillow his brother lobbed at his face. “Easy, Deanna, wouldn’t want to fall out of bed and break the other hip now.”

“You little bitch, as soon as I can get out of this bed, consider yourself a murdered man.”

Sam laughed, snatching the remote from Dean’s bed and flipping on the TV. “Ooooooh, look, Dean, it’s a documentary all about the rainforest!”

Dean growled, rearing up on the bed and lunging for the remote, but Sam dodged nimbly out of the way with a triumphant “HA!”. He sat down on the safety of his own bed and forced Dean to sit through ten excruciating minutes of the program, giggling as Dean’s whining steadily increased in volume. Finally he relented, switching it over to the Mystery Science Theatre marathon he knew was scheduled to run for the next week.


	23. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "hidden"
> 
> Today's warnings: blood tw
> 
> Today's word count: 498

Sam kept his gaze trained down at the ground, only looking up to make sure his brother was successfully able to hobble gingerly over the occasional tree root or carefully maneuver around the larger rocks.

Dean, meanwhile, kept his glare aimed almost exclusively at Sam. It kept his face uncomfortably close to the side of Sam’s head, but it was hard to avoid anyway since Sam had been forced to support Dean’s weight by gripping his brother’s arm over his shoulders.

Sam stumbled on a stubborn root, jarring Dean’s leg with a pained shout, and this was enough to break the dam.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ Sam, am I too much of a _burden_?! Maybe next time, you could actually _shoot the werewolf_ instead of playing the hero and crushing me with your freakishly huge body!”

Instead of rising to the bait, Sam hiked Dean’s arm higher and pushed on, until he full on tripped—over, if they were being completely honest, a perfectly avoidable rock—and pitched forward with a grunt. Dean tried to compensate, put weight on his sprained ankle, screamed, and ended up falling face-first into the dirt next to his brother.

“What the hell was that, Sam?!” Dean shouted at his brother once he was able to speak through the pain shooting up his leg.

Sam didn’t answer.

“Dammit, Sam, you better—“ Dean stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing that Sam had failed to move, not even to shift his face from the dirt that he’d landed in. “Hey, what the hell? Sammy?”

He pulled himself up, hissing as he shifted his leg, and carefully rolled Sam onto his back. As soon as he could see his brother’s side, he knew they were in trouble.

“ _Shit_ , Sam! Shit…shit shit _shit_!” His brother’s side was soaked in blood. He gently pulled the edge of Sam’s shirt up, and couldn’t stop his shudder at seeing the four long claw marks that had left deep gouges all the way from Sam’s back around his side. The wounds were still steadily seeping blood, and Dean glanced up and around into the surrounding woods, unsure of what to do now.

The Impala was still about a mile away, give or take, and they hadn’t thought to bring their full gear with them, because they’d only ventured out to take a look around, to see if there was even a _case_ here. Now Dean was stuck with a sprained ankle, no first aid kit, and no phone service in the middle of the woods with an unconscious brother. And the only reason Sam was unconscious now was because Dean had been too pissed at Sam to even bother asking if he was alright after he’d pulled that stupid stunt, and of _course_ Sam had hidden the injury from his brother, because he’d been pushing himself to help Dean walk through the woods because he felt _guilty_.

Dean lowered his head to Sam’s forehead, taking a second to gather his thoughts. “…Dammit, Sammy.”


	24. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "break"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 687

Sam could tell something was wrong. Well, more than just the fact that they’d just seen their mother’s ghost sacrifice itself to save them. Something else was bothering his brother. Dean had been withdrawn ever since they’d left Lawrence and stopped at the first motel outside the city limits, but Sam was too exhausted to do more than literally collapse onto his bed as soon as they entered the room, shoes and all.

When he woke up the next morning, Dean was sitting up in his bed, staring at the infomercial on the crappy television without actually seeing it. “Dude, were you up all night?”

Dean startled to attention. “What? No, don’t be an idiot.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting. When Dean didn’t offer anything else, he blew out a breath. “Alright, I’m going to go get some breakfast. You take a shower or something.” Dean just nodded vaguely, and Sam swept up the keys with a concerned frown, happening to glance at the news scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen on his way past Dean’s bed. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the date, and he made sure to swipe his laptop on his way out.

* * *

When he came back an hour later, he had a bag of takeout, some steaming coffees, and a plan.

He was also relieved to see that Dean had taken his advice, and was freshly showered and shaved, sitting at the table and fiddling with his cell phone.

“Hey. Breakfast of champions. The diner called it ‘The Heart Attack’.”

Dean immediately perked up, and Sam held back a smile of relief. Step One, complete.

“So, what’s the plan now?”

Dean simply shrugged, shoveling his greasy, dripping biscuits-and-gravy-and-eggs-and-bacon-and-sausage-and-cheese-and-hotsauce-mess into his mouth at a grotesque rate, groaning in delight.

Sam shuddered in disgust, but pushed forward with Step Two. “I was thinking…I heard on the radio about something in Scranton.”

Dean paused, mid-bite. “A job?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

Fork held in midair, Dean gestured for him to continue.

Summoning his best puppy-dog-eyes, Sam sighed. “We need a break. I need a break. After this last case….”

Dean’s expression shuttered closed, and Sam cursed silently.

“Anyway, we should go to Pennsylvania.”

Dean gestured wildly. “Why?!”

Sam couldn’t stop his smile. “Ozzy is performing.”

“…Let’s get this show on the road.”

Dean snarfed the rest of his breakfast in record time, and Sam grabbed his bag and coffee triumphantly. Step Two, complete.

* * *

“Dean, we should stop here for the night. I’m starving.”

“Indianapolis? Really? We’re only halfway there, Sam. We should keep going.”

“Yeah, but I just saw a sign for the ‘Best Steakhouse in Four States’.” He glanced at his brother, hoping that Step Three would work and that Dean hadn’t actually been paying attention to the billboards.

Dean appeared to ponder it for a second, then shrugged and took the next exit.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, then pointed at a real sign he was excited to see matched his itinerary. “Look, a burlesque show!”

Dean backhanded Sam’s shoulder excitedly. “That’s my boy!”

Sam ducked his head, grinning widely. Steps Three and Four complete.

* * *

The concert the next day was a whirlwind of beer, screaming lyrics at the top of their lungs, and narrowly avoiding being sucked into a mosh pit that Dean stared at longingly. Sam just shook his head, pulling his brother backwards. There had to be a limit, even today. He steered him to the memorabilia stand as a distraction and he shrugged in acquiescence when Dean pointed to a t-shirt before he bought it with a happy grin that Sam mirrored behind his brother’s back.

After Step Five was over, the brothers found a field a few miles away, and sat on the hood of the Impala, sharing a six pack for the final part of Sam’s plan, Step Six.

Sam opened a new bottle, tapped it against his brother’s, and smiled softly. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean choked on his beer, and Sam laughed at the shocked expression on his face. Of course he hadn’t remembered. Steps Five and Six complete.


	25. Bloody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "bloody"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 349

Dean had long since stopped being nervous about other people seeing the state of their laundry. He’d never had to do much explaining, even though half the time their dad’s clothes were covered in dried blood.

The curious or alarmed patrons of the laundromats, if they said anything about the bloody clothes, would always shrug and move back to their own business after he’d nonchalantly reply, “My dad’s a hunter.” He never had to clarify further than that, and thankfully animal blood looked the same as monster blood. It got even easier when Sam would pipe up instead, because he looked so innocent anyone would believe anything he said.

So Dean would take the meat tenderizer (unseasoned, as he’d found out the hard way once) he’d set aside a few dollars in their tiny budget to buy, make a paste with water, and scrub it into the blood stains. Sometimes their dad’s clothes were so saturated with blood it was difficult to see what the original color was supposed to be. Once Sam started helping, things went a bit faster. They still had to wait an hour or so for the paste to set in, but they could wash their own laundry in the meantime. 

And laundry days were always a quiet break from the rest of their lives. If the laundromat was empty, Dean would push Sam around in one of those wheeled carts, grinning at his brother’s excited squeals. If there were other people doing laundry, they sat quietly, avoided drawing attention to themselves by reading comic books or playing cards.

Arguably the best part of laundry days was when Dean would take the clothes from the dryer and pile them into one of the laundry carts, and Sam would curl up inside the bundle, all snuggled up and toasty warm. Dean would then cover him completely, and have fun poking at different parts of the pile, finding a foot here or an ear there. It never failed to bring a soft smile to his face, hearing his brother’s giggles muffled by the mound of clean clothes.


	26. Dislocated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "dislocated"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 474

‘ _Where is it where is it where is it whereisitwhereisitwhereisit!’_ The words repeated in an endless loop through his thoughts, pushing his anxiety further and further to the forefront of his mind.

Dean dug through his duffel bag, eventually giving in and dumping the contents all over his bed. As he leaned over, the noticeable lack of the amulet swinging up and bouncing back to his chest made his stomach flip in distress. He shook out every article of clothing, hoping to see it fall out, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t _anywhere_! 

Running his hands through his hair, he went through the previous day. He’d already searched the Impala, and he’d taken a shower the night before, but he’d checked the tub and the entirety of the bathroom. The only other place would have to be the motel room and the diner, but he was almost positive he’d been wearing the amulet before his shower, so it _should_ be somewhere in the room.

As he moved to check under his bed, he absently placed a hand over his chest to block the amulet from hitting himself in the face before realizing that it wasn’t there. He felt _wrong_ , like a part of his body was crooked, or something was dislocated, a piece of himself absent.

He was halfway under the bed when the door to the motel room swung open. Sam stopped midway through the door, and Dean ducked out to meet his gaze. The brothers stared at each other in silence. Dean didn’t want to admit what he was doing, couldn’t bear to see Sam’s face if he confessed what he was looking for, what was _lost…_

Sam, for his part, just looked confused. Then, as he dropped his backpack next to the table and shut the door behind him, he took in the mess of the room. His expression changed from one of slight alarm to one of sheepish understanding, and he moved to the bedside lamp their beds shared. As Dean watched, Sam pulled the amulet off of the lampshade, holding it out to him with a small smile.

“I found it in the bathroom while I was getting ready for school. It must’ve come off with your shirt when you were getting in the shower. I figured you’d see it here when you woke up, but.…” He shrugged awkwardly before plopping down at the table to do his homework.

Dean, meanwhile, slipped the amulet back on over his head, feeling his heartbeat and breathing immediately settle as the comfortable weight hung right where it was supposed to be. He grinned, the feeling of _something’s_ _wrong_ finally dissipating. He was so happy, he was even able to resist the urge to slap Sam upside the head for hiding it in plain sight instead of just telling him where it was.


	27. Jazz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "jazz"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 297

Dean checked the clock ticking on the wall in front of him. He’d been waiting for the past three hours, twelve minutes, and…’ _thirty two, thirty three, thirty four…_ ’.

He groaned, standing up again to stretch his legs and regain feeling in his ass. ‘ _The dickheads in charge of waiting rooms need to be shot_.’ Unable to handle sitting still for another unknown amount of time, he went back to pacing. Midstep, he caught on to the music, and, in ‘ _three, two, one_ …’ he finger gunned at the speaker in the ceiling as the music looped itself back to the beginning of its twenty six minute forty two second loop.

By the time he’d sampled coffee from each option in the vending machine (and deemed them all crap), he’d heard the song repeat itself a total of eleven times. And by the time the speakers repeated their incessant bleating for the thirteenth time, Dean was being ushered back to Sam’s recovery room.

As he settled in to his customary chair at Sam’s bedside, he resolutely ignored all of the machinery beeping steadily around him, sighing in relief at the blissful silence. He gripped his brother’s cold, limp hand, and squeezed it just on this side of too tightly. “So. Sammy. When you finally decide to grace me with your presence, I am gonna kick your ass. And no, it’s not going to be because you pushed me out of the way and fell down the side of a cliff like a self-sacrificial idiot and broke your leg more ways than I’d like to think about.”

Dean took a steady breath, leaning forward with a glare. “No, I’m gonna kick your ass for making me listen to that _goddamn jazz music for the past five hours and seventeen minutes_!”


	28. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "numb"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 406

John gripped Sam’s shoulder, hunched over to look him in the eyes. “Sam, this has gone on long enough. Your brother was able to learn this in a few hours. It’s been days for you, son. No more excuses. If this is how you need to learn, then so be it.”

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed. He was trembling so badly he could barely nod back at his father.

At his father’s stern look, he dropped his gaze, muttering a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

John gave Sam’s shoulder a squeeze, then turned to walk across the creaking front porch, carefully avoiding the hole next to the front door. Before he stepped inside, he turned and gave Sam one last look. “As soon as you can get back inside, you can eat dinner.” Then he turned without another word, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Sam stood there on the porch of their rented house, shivering from more than the chill from the cool fall afternoon air. His father had left him outside with nothing but a lockpick set and a thin hoodie, and he had strictly forbidden Dean from interacting with Sam in any way.

Blinking the tears from his eyes, he pulled out the tiny tools and bent over to reach the lock. Before he could choose a tool to start with, he heard a soft knocking sound from the front window. He didn’t even have to look up to know that Dean was there. A little smile curved his lips up, and he felt warmth flood through him. Dean was there for him, risking their dad’s anger just to show Sam his support.

He chanced glancing up to meet his brother’s eyes. Dean was standing rigid, his body language screaming just how pissed off he was at the whole situation. And yet he gave Sam an encouraging smile, one that Sam returned as best he could before he turned back to the deadbolt, a surge of confidence pushing him onward because he knew Dean would be there with him, as best he could, the whole time.

It was long past dark before Sam finally felt the door click open, and he nearly dropped the lockpicks from his numb fingers. Frustrated tear tracks had dried and rewet his cheeks several times throughout the afternoon and evening, and he scrubbed absently at them with his sleeve as he shuffled his way into Dean’s tight hug.


	29. Flavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "flavor"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 367

“I’ll take a double cheeseburger, extra everything except pickles, an order of fries, two cokes, and a chicken salad wrap, dressing on the side. To go.”

Just as he was pulling out his wallet to pay, Sam interrupted the girl at the register before she could repeat his order back to him. “And a slice of pie! Please.”

The girl hesitated.

Sam looked at her apprehensively. “What? Nothing left?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. We’re running low today, and we’ve still got a few slices of apple, but we’ve only got gluten free left.”

Sam froze, staring off into space as he mentally weighed the pros and cons of whether or not to buy Dean a slice. Chances are he wouldn’t even realize it was gluten free if Sam didn’t mention it, but what if he _did_? He debated whether it would be worth it just not buying any at all, but then he remembered what had happened the last time he made that decision for Dean.

~~~~~~~

_“Pomegranate? The only flavor left is pomegranate?” Sam frantically racked his memory, trying to remember any scenario where he would’ve witnessed his brother being anywhere close to a pomegranate. “Uh…no thank you.”_

_Dean dug through the takeout bag, dropping his burger and fries on the seat next to him, looking up at Sam with the most betrayed expression Sam had ever seen on his brother’s face. “Where’s the pie?”_

_“They only had pomegranate, dude. I figured you wouldn’t like it.”_

_“Pie is pie, Sam!”_

~~~~~~~

“Sir?

Sam blinked, then smiled uneasily at the cashier. “I’ll take a slice, thanks.”

The entire time he waited for their order, he fidgeted anxiously, still debating whether or not he had made the right decision.

When he accepted the bags of takeout, he could barely return the cashier’s smile, painfully aware of the dread curling in his gut. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry for his wrap any more.

~~~~~~~

It only took Dean three bites before he _knew_. 

And even though Sam had sensed it coming, he was still unprepared to see the exact same look of betrayal gradually spread over Dean’s face as he slowly turned to glare at him.


	30. Classic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "classic"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 493

The cassette tape had just switched from Side B to Side A (because Dean had fast-forwarded through the abomination that was “Hats Off to Roy Harper”), and the opening guitar riff of “Immigrant Song” started playing.

“Ah, yeah,” Dean crowed happily, turning up the volume so loud it echoed in his ears. He glanced over to Sam to gauge his reaction, and felt an instant dip in his happiness to see Castiel in the passenger seat instead. Oh yeah. Sam had hitched a ride to get his head on straight and neither of them had bothered to contact each other since.

_Ah ahhhhh, ah! Ah ahhhhh, ah!_

Dean forced a grin back on his face, turning back to the angel. “Like it? It’s a classic!”

Cas’ face remained impassive, albeit a little confused. “'The hammer of the gods'? Thor’s hammer? That has been missing for hundreds of years.”

Dean’s face flickered through several emotions ranging from exasperation to mild curiosity before he settled on annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the music, Cas!”

Castiel ignored him, instead focusing on the Impala’s stereo system. “What is…” He trailed off as he poked at one of the silver buttons.

 _We’ll drive our ships to —_ Click— _the Hollywood sign, this is all so crazy, everybody looks so famous!_

Dean slapped Castiel’s hand away from the dashboard, outraged. “What the hell, Cas?!” He flipped the music back to Led Zeppelin with an angry huff.

Castiel looked affronted, before reaching purposefully over to switch the music back to the radio. “I like this song.”

Dean didn’t even bother looking at him as he immediately changed it back again.

There was a few seconds’ pause before Dean saw Castiel’s hand extending towards the radio again, and he swerved the car over to the side of the road. He turned fully towards the angel, seething. “ _Don’t_. _Even_. _Think_ _about_ _it_.”

Castiel matched his glare’s level of intensity, sitting perfectly still in his seat.

 _To fight the horde_ —Click— _I’m nodding my head like yeah, movin’ my hips like yeah!_

Dean’s head whipped to the stereo and back at the angel. Castiel hadn’t moved to switch the music, but there it was, playing crappy chick pop. He slammed the radio off and silence echoed in the Impala.

“Get out.”

“Dean—“

“You’ve got wings. Feel free to fly there.”

Cas disappeared without a word, and Dean immediately switched back to his cassette tape, sighing in relief as Zeppelin continued singing about Valhalla. He pulled back onto the road, singing along as loudly as he could, because he _could_.

He finally started to relax, slapping his palms on the steering wheel as the song moved to his favorite part.

 _Ah ahhhhh, ah! Ah ahhhhh, ah!_ —Click— _It’s a party in the USA!_

The Impala swerved on the road as Dean startled at the sudden change.

Dean felt rage burn through every cell in his body as he bellowed, “GODDAMMIT CAS!”


	31. Shaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "shaking"
> 
> Today's warnings: (referenced) child abuse tw
> 
> Today's word count: 521

"By the way, Ketch mentioned he’s had to do a lot of cleanup after you two lately."  
  
Sam stiffened, and Dean's hackles rose defensively.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Mom?"  
  
"Well, for starters, those men at the government base in Colorado were all loose ends. You should know better than to leave dangerous enemies alive, boys."  
  
Both Dean and Sam were momentarily stunned at this ruthless ideology coming from their own mother's mouth.  
  
"We try our best not to kill humans, Mom," Sam started softly.  
  
"Otherwise we're no better than the monsters," Dean finished, a bit more gruffly.  
  
"Well, it seems like you have a problem killing the monsters sometimes too. That psychic freak? I'm surprised at how sloppy you two were. It's a good thing Ketch found her, she was too dangerous to be left alive."  
  
Sam made a choking noise, gripping the edge of the table so hard it creaked. Dean glanced at him, quickly gauging Sam's high level of distress, before turning to their mother with a simmering rage. "That ‘psychic freak' was a _kid,_ Mom."  
  
Mary scoffed. "A 'kid' with two kills already!"  
  
"They were accidents! She was asking for help!"  
  
"Imagine what she would’ve been capable of when she started killing on purpose!"  
  
"Her parents kept her locked in the basement like an animal!"  
  
"Good! She _was_ one!"  
  
Sam, whose body had been steadily trembling with anger and immeasurable sadness, finally snapped. He slammed his palms down on the table, effectively silencing the argument. His hands were visibly shaking, but his voice was remarkably steady and dangerously quiet. “Magda. Her name is— _was_ Magda. And she _was_ a kid. A scared, hurt, abused, vulnerable little girl.”

Mary tried to interject, but Sam talked over her. “A little girl forced to live in fear for her life, forced to harm herself, and all because her family was afraid. And nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to be kept in a basement because of who they are, especially a scared little kid.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, suddenly remembering an incoherent Sam locked in Bobby’s panic room, but he didn’t dare interrupt his brother. 

It seemed like Mary hadn’t gotten the memo though, and she barreled on, trying to convince the boys of something they were never going to see eye to eye on. “Sam. I don’t understand why you’re defending a monster. A monster with powers that could kill people! That _did_ kill people!”

“Because she was still a good person! And we didn’t ask for those powers!”

The room froze, and Sam sucked in a shaky breath as he realized what he’d just revealed.

Dean decided that enough was enough. Voice firm and unyielding, he ended the discussion. "You’re right, Mom, you don't understand. But if you'd bothered to ask, you would already know exactly why this is a big deal to us, to _Sam._ "  
  
Mary's eyes hardened, but she kept silent, and merely watched as Dean led Sam from the room, whispering softly to him. Dean's warning glare back at her promised a tough conversation to come, but it wouldn't be anything she couldn't handle hearing...right?


	32. Sensitive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "sensitive"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 500

Sam crouched next to the tombstone, doing his best not to slouch over onto it. He could feel the fever burning through him quickly draining his strength, and he knew that if he let himself relax, even for just a second, he wouldn’t have the energy to get back up again.

He sniffled, absently wiping his nose on his sleeve before shifting the shotgun in his lap. He blinked his burning, weepy eyes repeatedly in an attempt to clear his hazy vision so he’d be ready when the ghost manifested again.

Dean, meanwhile, had just cracked open the coffin and was starting to sprinkle the bones with salt when the spirit appeared across the hole from Sam.

“Dean! Down!” Sam barked roughly, throat immediately complaining at the loud yell. Just as he raised the shotgun to fire, a massive sneeze forced its way from him, taking him by surprise and causing his fingers to contract enough to accidentally squeeze the trigger.

He quickly pulled his gun upwards as best he could so the shot wouldn’t go too wide and hurt Dean. Thankfully it was only rock salt, and enough of it stayed on target to dispel the ghost.

Dean’s head popped up from where he’d landed on top of the coffin. “Damn, dude. A little more warning next time?”

Sam sniffed again, chuckling ruefully. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He staggered to his feet, holding out a hand to hoist his brother up. Dean mercifully seemed to understand that Sam was nearing the end of his endurance, and only used Sam’s hand as an anchor point to haul himself out of the hole.

Dean clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder on his way to their weapons bag, digging through it for the lighter fluid. “Hold on, Sasquatch. Almost done with Mr. Crotchety.”

Sam snorted a laugh, then pinched the bridge of his nose with instant regret as a headache rapidly flared to life.

“Sam!”

Sam jerked, opening his eyes to see the ghost bearing down on Dean as he soaked the body with lighter fluid. He fumbled the shotgun up and fired, wincing at the loud noise echoing in his newly sensitive ears.

The thin wisp of smoke from the ejected cartridge tickled Sam’s nose, and he abruptly sneezed again so loudly that Dean startled, dropping his unlit lighter into the grave. He looked down at it forlornly. “Awww…I liked that one, dammit.”

Sam wiped his face again with his now-damp sleeve. “So go get it…?”

Dean shrugged, pulling an extra lighter from his pocket. “Eh. I’ll just buy another bulk box from the army surplus store.” He dropped the lighter, this one lit, into the coffin, nodding with satisfaction when the ghost didn’t reappear. He turned to his brother, taking in Sam’s appearance with a quick once-over.

“Gross, dude.” He pulled his sleeve down over his fist and swiped at Sam’s cheek, cleaning off some of the snot he’d missed. Sam belatedly ducked away, scowling, and Dean smirked. “Let’s go, plague boy.”


	33. Gasp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "gasp"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 494

Sam was sprawled on his side of the Impala with his window down, stripped to a single shirt and sulking. With one hand he was constantly brushing back his sweaty bangs from his forehead, and he was gulping down an iced coffee with the other.

Dean glanced over at him and snorted a laugh. Sam was one step away from actually _pouting_. “Dude, calm down. It’s almost sunset, okay?”

“Yeah, a fat lot of good that’s gonna do us in Arizona in Aug—”

Sam cut himself off with a gasp, shooting upright and startling the hell out of Dean with the abrupt movement. As he turned to see what was going on, he saw Sam fumbling his cup into his lap before doubling over, squeezing his head in his hands with a bitten-off groan.

“Sam? Sammy! Shit….” Dean maneuvered the car over to the side of the road as fast as he could, throwing her into park and turning on the seat to face Sam fully. His hands hovered helplessly for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s condition before he decided to at least move the cup of coffee safely away from spilling all over Sam’s crotch (and Baby’s seat).

“What’s going on, Sam? Is it another freaking vision? What are you seeing?”

Sam shook his head, rocking back and forth in his seat as his fingers dug into his skull. Dean leaned forward, and felt his pulse quicken at the sight of tears streaming down Sam’s face.

“Sam! What is going on?! Is it a psychic thing? A curse? What?!” Dean resisted the urge to shake the answer out of Sam in case it made things worse, but he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t direct his anxiety at an actual threat in the next ten seconds.

As if he could sense the same thing, Sam peeled an eye open, tracked around the car for a moment, and settled his gaze before lifting a shaky hand to point to his cup.

Dean stared at it for a minute, wondering if some asshole had poisoned it or something, when the ice settled in the cup with a clack. And just like that, it clicked in his mind, and he slumped back in his seat, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the inane absurdity of it all.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Are you telling me that you’re having brain freeze right now?”

Sam twitched his head in a pathetic little nod.

“I almost crashed the car…we’re stopped on the side of the road in 115 degree weather right now…you are _crying_ …because your mouth got too cold from your sissy girly drink?!”

Sam didn’t even look at Dean as he flipped him off.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, releasing the rest of his tension through an almost giddy burst of laughter before he sat up and pulled the car back onto the road.


	34. Vents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "vents"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 296

The Impala had seen a lot.

Over the years, she had observed everything from sex to arguments to the wails of an infant. 

Baby had seen more blood smeared on her seats than a hospital gurney.

At the age of sixteen, Dean had used her to pass his driving test, even though he’d been driving since he was twelve. 

She had silently borne the beating Dean gave her trunk lid instead of his brother.

Sam always hid his textbooks under her seats so that he could study on the way to and from hunts. 

Baby had seen the semi coming before it crushed her around her family.

Before Sam’s army man got stuck, her ash tray was used to store loose change and pebbles and tiny squares of shattered beer bottles Dean found in the motel parking lots when he was allowed to run around while John fed Sam formula from a bottle.

Dean and Sam carved letters in her back, leaving their mark in a way nobody else would ever see.

Bobby only drove Baby once. Dean sat in the back, hunched over an ashen, bloodied Sam, tears flowing unchecked onto the cold body of his baby brother.

She witnessed the spanking Dean got when he dropped his legos into her heating vents.

Every night until he turned thirteen, Sam would curl up on her back seat, wrapped in a leather jacket with his head on Dean’s lap.

Dean had used her to score from the age of fourteen all the way to the age of twenty-nine, when he was ripped down to Hell.

She held Sam as he cried on her steering wheel, forgiving him when he slammed her radio off in the middle of _Wanted Dead or Alive._

Baby had seen a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my good friend [Dontknowmyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontknowmyname/pseuds/Dontknowmyname) for helping me beta this chapter! <3


	35. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "silence"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 358
> 
> This chapter is a companion piece to ["Vents"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091629/chapters/54251149)

Sam wasn’t used to silence in the Impala.

Growing up, there was always some sort of noise.

Dean would read his comic books out loud, squinting in the dim overhead light and haltingly sounding out the big words.

When they were really little, their Dad would play the alphabet signs game with them, one of the few times he’d let them sit up front together to try and spot the signs coming before he did.

As they grew up, the road games became hunting trivia. He’d relentlessly drill them, and Dean was the reigning champion for years until Sam discovered Bobby’s library.

Eventually Sam drowned out the front seat by sprawling in the back, buried deep in several books at a time, headphones plugged into Dean’s walkman and absently mouthing along to his secret Ladyheart cassette.

After studying anything other than lore became forbidden, Sam and John would pull Dean into argument after argument until John eventually retreated to his own vehicle.

Once it was just the two of them, Dean seemed to blossom. He’d blast his Baby’s speakers as loud as he pleased, and he’d coax a begrudging Sam to belt the lyrics, screaming to be heard over the music.

Sometimes they just talked.

Sometimes they said nothing at all. But it was never silent. Dean was always next to him, fidgeting, tapping the steering wheel, snacking on junk food, or just simply breathing.

Now…now the Impala was silent. And the lack of sound only accentuated how wrong it was that there was no bickering, no pranks causing outraged shouts, no laughter, no teasing…no Dean.

Sam couldn’t stand the silence.

But he couldn’t bear to touch Dean’s tapes without him there to give him crap about them.

And the idea of turning on the radio and hearing any of Dean’s music playing made him sick to his stomach, but even thinking of changing Dean’s preset radio stations felt like a betrayal.

So he installed an MP3 player and listened to his shitty hair rock and couldn’t quite hold back his tears when he realized Dean would have hated this anyway.

It didn’t make Sam feel better either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my good friend [Dontknowmyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontknowmyname/pseuds/Dontknowmyname)! <3


	36. Exhaustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "exhaustion"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 427

Sam dropped his backpack inside the door of their motel room, noting immediately that Dean wasn’t in the room. Frowning with confusion, he backtracked to the door and peered at the parking lot. The Impala was there. Dean should be done with work by now. Suddenly on edge, he slid a hand into his back pocket, grasping his hunting knife.

He slid over to the Impala, peering into the windows, and spotted Dean’s backpack in the passenger seat. Confused, he straightened up to take a look around the parking lot until he caught sight of a figure coming up behind him in the window’s reflection. Immediately recognizing his brother, he relaxed, slipping his knife back into his pocket before he turned around.

“Hey, Sammy.”

Sam barely opened his mouth before Dean jogged past him, his ragged breathing apparent even from the distance between them. “Dean! Why are you running laps?”

“Dad!” Came the answer before Dean disappeared around the far side of the motel.

Frowning, Sam followed him around the building at a slow jog of his own, catching sight of his father’s stern posture.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

John barely spared Sam a glance as he watched Dean pass them again. “I got a call from school today. Apparently Dean thinks it’s okay to sleep through his classes.”

Sam frowned. “He doesn’t usually. He’s even been studying and working on his homework with me.” He paused, then amended, “Well, after he comes home from work. Then he usually makes dinner for us.”

John hummed in response, but didn’t say anything.

Sam was suddenly unwilling to let this go. “When did you get back? Did you just come back to punish him? I know Dean’s been trying to call you for _days_ , Dad. He didn’t say anything to me, but I can tell he’s been really worried.” When his dad still didn’t pick up on it, Sam marched to stand in front of him. “Dad! Think about it! School, work, cooking, homework, training, and worrying about you! It’s all taking a toll on him! Dean didn’t fall asleep in class because he doesn’t care! It’s not laziness, it’s _exhaustion_!”

To further illustrate his point, Dean himself came back around the building, stumbling over his feet as he doggedly kept going. It was apparent his energy was flagging, and his form was no longer the perfect posture their father expected of them.

John’s eyes softened as he took in Sam’s words and Dean’s appearance simultaneously, and he gave Sam a nod before barking, “That’s enough, Dean. Back inside.”


	37. Quiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "quiver"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 683

It happened too fast. 

One second Dean was glaring at Cas, daring him to threaten Sam again. The next, Cas had already reached out to touch Sam’s face before Dean could do more than turn to watch him do it. Dean had barely taken a step towards them before the angel was gone.

At Castiel’s touch, Sam’s body had gone ramrod straight, and he blinked in shock, his eyes widening grotesquely. His mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and his limbs were held so rigid they started to quiver. Sam’s fists squeezed tightly enough that blood started seeping from tiny nailprints in his palms.

“Sammy?”

Dean searched his brother’s face for some spark of recognition, but Sam’s eyes stared vacantly.

Terrified, Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulders, shaking him roughly. 

“Sammy, snap out of it!”

Instead of answering, Sam’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he started seizing before his body even started to collapse. He dropped straight backwards towards the cement, and Dean lurched forward with a shout, trying desperately to catch him. Thankfully Bobby had rushed forward to help, and they gently lowered Sam to the ground.

From there, both men were frozen, staring at Sam as his body jerked and thrashed through the worst seizure they’d ever seen him experience. It had already lasted several minutes, and Sam wasn’t slowing down. Dean was crouched down next to his brother, hands hovering over him helplessly. Suddenly Sam’s arm banged into a trash can, and Dean jumped up to pull Sam into the middle of the filthy alley, watching in dismay as his brother’s head dragged along the ground. He pulled off his jacket and shoved it under Sam’s head belatedly, hoping it would still help protect him a little. At least Bobby wasn’t cutting into Sam’s lips by forcing a belt into his mouth this time, but as Dean looked closer, he realized that it didn’t matter.

“Sam? Bobby, what the hell?! He’s coughing up blood!” He leaned forward, using his bare hand to wipe Sam’s face, but more frothy blood continued to leak out of his mouth.

“Hold on, son. I think he just bit his tongue is all. Turn him on his side before he chokes.”

It was a struggle to force his brother’s heavy body onto its side while it was moving so unnaturally, and he ended up keeping a hand lightly on Sam’s hip to make sure he didn’t roll backwards again.

An eternity passed before Sam’s movements finally slowed to a stop. Dean barely dared to breathe, subconsciously matching his breaths to Sam’s shallow ones. Sam was completely still, and the difference from just seconds ago was so jarring that Dean had to reach out to check for a pulse. Satisfied that his brother was alive, he looked up at Bobby.

“What do we do now? Take him to the hospital?”

Bobby’s heart gave a pang at the combination of Dean’s small voice and completely lost expression, and his gruff answer, driven by fear, was still delivered gently. “What are we gonna tell ‘em, Dean? The wall Death put up to keep your brother’s memories of Lucifer’s tortures in Hell just got broken by an asshole angel?”

Dean’s open expression of fear closed off immediately at the mention of Castiel, but before he could reply, Sam’s breath hitched. Dean’s attention immediately focused back on his brother where it belonged, and he ran a soothing hand through Sam’s tangled hair.

“Sammy? Can you hear me?”

Sam’s face remained slack, and Dean deflated at the lack of a response. They waited another few minutes, just in case, before Bobby stood up from his crouch, offering Dean a hand. “Come on, son. Let’s get him home. My panic room is the safest place for him while he recovers.”

With a nod, Dean accepted Bobby’s hand and hauled himself to his feet. Dean shuddered at the sudden reminder of a very different seizure in the panic room, then shook his head to clear his resolve. This time he’d be there for Sam, right where his brother needed him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm really sorry, every once in a while I'm gonna allow these tiny bit longer drabbles in here that I just for the life of me couldn't trim down because I like them so much. So, I'm sorry...but I'm really not.


	38. Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "echo"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 197

Dean pounded his fists on the doors, bellowing, "I'm gonna go CRAZY IN HERE!"

Sam rolled his eyes at him from where he was sitting cross-legged against the elevator wall. "Yeah, Dean. That's gonna help us get out faster. While you're at it why not try jumping up and down to see if it resets the cable?"

Dean paused his thirteenth attempt to force the doors to slide open with his bare hands, turning to look at him curiously. "Would that work?"

Sam stared at him, expression pinching into a spectacular bitch face. "...No."

Growling, Dean kept his face turned towards his brother and found the Emergency Call button by feel, slamming his palm down on it and keeping it there. 

The shrill alarm bell echoed inside the car.

The brothers glared at each other, neither one willing to accept defeat and admit they'd had enough.

Sam's eye started twitching.

Dean's grin faltered.

Just as both of them started to move, the ringing abruptly cut off on its own, and the lights snapped off, leaving them in complete darkness.

There was a brief stunned silence, before Sam snorted a laugh at Dean's enraged shout.

"Oh, COME ON!"


	39. Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "silver"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 506

A gurgled scream pierced the air, and the brothers only paused long enough to draw their weapons before rushing down the remainder of the park’s path towards the lake’s edge.

There, in the middle of the small lake, a woman was splashing frantically. “Help! Plea—“ She slipped underwater briefly, then burst back out with a sob.

Dean immediately began shedding his jacket and shoes, but Sam threw out an arm to stop him. “Dean, wait. We don’t even know what we’re hunting yet! What if it’s a spirit? Or some kind of monster?”

“And what if she’s not? You know seven people have gone missing around here. You really want to sit and argue while one of ‘em might be drowning right in front of us?!”

Sam hesitated just a beat too long, and Dean successfully ducked under his arm and dove into the lake, swimming strongly towards the weakening struggles up ahead.

Biting his lip with worry, Sam gripped his gun tightly, pacing back and forth at the lake’s edge, keeping a close eye on his brother. He could hear Dean reassuring the drowning woman as he drew up to her, and because he was keeping such careful watch, he was also able to hear Dean’s gasp of surprise as he was suddenly dunked under the water.

“Dean!”

Sam lifted his gun, now aiming not at a drowning woman, but at a pitch black horse. He fired off a shot, cursing when the horse merely screamed in anger at him. Dean was nowhere to be seen, but Sam felt a sense of relief when the creature—which he now knew was a kelpie—turned its attention from Dean to him, swimming at full speed towards the shore. As the kelpie drew closer, it suddenly hit him that he was using the wrong ammunition.

“Crap!” He dug through his jacket pocket for the silver bullets he’d brought, just in case. He managed to get three shells loaded before the kelpie burst from the water, soaking him thoroughly and temporarily blinding him. What felt like a truck slammed into his chest, and he fell backwards to the ground with a shout, gasping for air.

Relying on instinct, he lifted his gun directly above him and fired, and was satisfied to hear the kelpie scream, this time in pain. Dashing the lake water out of his eyes with his sleeve, he saw movement above him and rolled quickly to the right, just in time for a massive hoof to graze his back.

Arching his back with a choked off scream, he staggered to his feet, firing his second shot at the massive horse head. Relieved to see the kelpie drop to the ground in a heap, he used his final bullet, and its whole body dissolved into a greyish ooze.

Sam hissed in startled pain when a hand landed on his shoulder. But instead of pulling away, he leaned into the touch, taking it for what it was; proof that Dean was alive and standing beside him.


	40. Covered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "covered"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 543

Dean pounded on the door. “Hurry up, Sam!”

Sam grimaced in disgust, still fully dressed and holding the shower curtain open.

“Dean?” He called, gaze roving over the shower walls.

“What?” Dean answered, muffled through the bathroom door.

“Did you have a girl here last night that I was completely unaware of? Or does the cleaning staff here just suck that bad?”

There was a pause, before Dean knocked once on the door. “You decent?”

Sam snorted. “Yup.”

Dean poked his head in first, as if he didn’t believe him, then entered the room. “Okay. First of all, you were here with me all night, so, One, you would have absolutely been aware, Two, as much as I’m sure you could take some pointers from me, C, that’s a little too kinky, even for me, Sammy.”

Sam fake gagged, and Dean smacked him on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Second of all, why do you ask?”

Lifting the shower curtain, Sam gestured to the shower with a flourish. Dean hesitated, suspicious, then cautiously peered around his brother. “Dude! Gross!” He reared back immediately, expression horrified. Sam couldn’t help chuckling as Dean continued, “Who does that?!”

He shrugged, before pulling the curtain open fully to see better. The far wall of the shower stall was covered in long hairs. The hair was blonde, so it was subtle, but not that subtle. It was apparent that whoever had showered last had stuck their loose hairs to the wall rather than let them stop up the drain, but then they’d just left them there to dry, leaving crunchy tufts all over the place.

Turning on the showerhead, Sam cupped his hands under the spray, splashing water at the hair clumps. Bit by bit, the hair began to unstick, sliding down the wall and swirling towards the drain. Once the wall was clear, Sam turned off the shower, only to see that the tub had been filling, even though he hadn’t plugged the drain.

The hair had slowly circled the drain before becoming snagged on top of the trap, effectively clogging the tub.

Sam sagged with a full-body sigh, almost ready to admit defeat and just wait for their next motel room. But he was covered in vampire blood and streaked with mud, and short of finding a garden hose, this was his only option if he didn’t want to be tied to the roof of the car.

Besides, Dean was still waiting for his turn.

He turned to grab a motel washcloth and scooped up the hair clump (which, he was disturbed to notice, was big enough to both look and feel like he was holding a small rodent), tossing the whole dripping mess into the trash can. He was relieved to see the water continue draining as if nothing had ever happened.

Dean turned to leave the bathroom with a slap to Sam’s back. “I swear to God, Sam, if I find your hair smeared all over the walls like that when it’s my turn, I will not hesitate to shave your head.”

Sam gave him a tired grin in response, too exhausted to laugh. He honestly hadn’t given it a single thought, but now….

They both knew he was going to do it anyway.


	41. Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "voice"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 142

Dean crouched next to the tree, frozen in place, barely breathing. He'd just heard a careful footstep nearby, and he was waiting for more movement to pinpoint its exact location.

- _snap_ -

 _There_.

He stood in a rush, whirling around the tree to his right, gun up and aiming straight ahead. He hesitated, watching the dark silhouette's movements, but was relieved to recognize that whatever it was, it wasn't Sam. He'd recognize Sam's movements blindfolded (and his father made sure that he had).

He heard sniffing, and Dean cursed silently, immediately realizing he was upwind. He took quick aim and fired off a shot, but he wasn't fast enough. The creature dodged, growling, but the bullet still struck something that cried out, and hearing that sound scared Dean more than any deadly creature in the dark woods, because he'd recognized that voice.

"Sammy?"


	42. Kneel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "kneel"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 248

John was just unlocking the door when he heard tiny footsteps racing after him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Wait!”

Hitching his weapons bag higher on his shoulder, he paused, looking down at his three year old. “What, Sammy? Daddy has to go now.”

Unperturbed, Sam gripped his father’s pant leg with one hand, pulling on it until John relented with an exasperated smile, kneeling in front of him.

As soon as John was closer to eye level, Sam held up his other hand. “Here, Daddy! Take him with you!”

John stared at what Sam was holding out to him for a good few seconds before looking back at his son. “Why?”

Sam frowned, as if John should know the answer already. “To keep you company!”

Unable to hide his smile, John took the small dinosaur toy, kissing Sam on the forehead. “Thanks, Sammy. I’ll keep him safe.”

Beaming, Sam scampered away, immediately jumping on top of Dean’s legs where he was watching TV on the bed, giggling at his big brother’s indignant squawk.

Shaking his head fondly, John shut the motel room door behind him, waiting until he heard Dean slide the chain lock into place before he got into the Impala. He dropped the weapons bag on the passenger seat next to him and placed the bright orange dinosaur on the dashboard. He paused a moment, staring at it, then turned it so it could see through the windshield. He drove off towards his next hunt with a grin.


	43. Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "catch"
> 
> Today's warnings: blood tw
> 
> Today's word count: 502

“We’ll be back soon, Sam. Just the one witness today and then we’ll hopefully have the gravesite narrowed down.”

Sam barely looked up at them as they left, concentrating on the whetstone he was carefully running his favorite knife over.

Dean and John had barely been gone for half an hour before Sam deemed his knife sharp enough, and he held it up, sighting down the blade before gently scraping his fingertip across the edge to verify it was evenly shaved down on both sides.

Satisfied and thoroughly pleased with himself, he set the whetstone aside, picking up his history notebook from the other side of the table and ripping out a blank page. The knife easily slid through the paper as though there was nothing there, and Sam couldn’t hold back a proud grin. 

Casually spinning his knife on his palm, he dropped the pieces of paper on the table, then paused as he methodically squeezed the hilt, thinking. Before he could talk himself out of it, he allowed the knife to slip down towards the floor before he flipped it back up, gingerly catching it by the blade between his thumb and index finger.

Breathing shakily, heart racing, he twitched a tiny smirk before tossing the knife up in the air, this time catching the hilt. Instantly feeling more confident, he let the knife start to slide from his hand again, and flipped it back up.

His eyes widened as he immediately felt the difference in balance and weight. He’d miscalculated. As the choices of “try to catch it” and “dodge out of the way” simultaneously flashed through his mind, he did a kind of aborted hop in his chair, his bare, boxer-clad legs sliding one way and his torso shifting the other, his left hand raising up in the air out of the way of danger, and his right hand making a scooping motion as the blade descended towards it.

At the last second, his brain screamed “DON’T TOUCH IT” and his right hand bailed too, flittering away and grazing the side of the descending hilt. This brief contact shifted the trajectory of the knife just right so that as it landed, it didn’t  _ quite _ skewer directly into his thigh, but it left a trail of fire as it skimmed its way down the side of his bare leg before hitting the floor.

Sam just sat there frozen, completely shocked, watching blood beading up and steadily dripping down the side of his thigh. It had happened so quickly and the blade was so sharp it didn’t really hurt yet. Then the seeping blood started pooling under his leg and he involuntarily shifted at the uncomfortable feeling, and that’s when it really started to burn.

He sucked in a breath, hands hovering over the wound, mind completely blank. Just as his brain supplied the idea of maybe trying to do something about the fact that he was bleeding all over the place, he heard a key in the lock.

“...Shit.”


	44. Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: "collide"
> 
> Today's warnings: none
> 
> Today's word count: 754

“Look, Dean, I appreciate you letting me drive for once, I really do. And I know that this is your car.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him, waiting impatiently for the point of his rambling.

Sam hesitated, using the pause to change lanes. He kicked his left foot backwards on the floor, shifting an empty fast-food cup under the seat before he decided enough was enough. “You gotta stop dropping your garbage on the floor, man. I’ve got no room over here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, Sammy. Most of that crap is yours, and it’s just floated from your side to mine.”

Sam sucked in an indignant breath, turning his head enough to see Dean out of the corner of his eye. “Prove it, Jerk!”

Glaring, Dean bent forward, digging through the takeout containers and cups. “Alright, Bitch, let’s see. Salad container!” He chucked it at Sam’s knees.

“Hey!”

Dean grinned darkly. “Water bottles.” He tossed three of them (gently (kind of)) at Sam’s head, and they bounced off one by one onto the seat between them.

“Knock it off!”

Continuing to sift through the sizeable garbage pile, Dean came up with several more items, which he lobbed skillfully at Sam’s hand, elbow, and shoulder, all of them hitting their targets. “The wrapper from your breakfast burrito! Your girly coffee cup! And…a granola bar that you didn’t even finish!”

Sam changed lanes again, face red with anger now. The fact that he was the one driving and having to put up with being bombarded with crap was fraying his last nerve. As he maneuvered in front of the car he’d passed, the new trash shifted around on the floor around him.

“Dean, I swear to God, knock it the hell off!”

Ignoring him, Dean sat up gleefully, hefting something in his hand. Sam glanced at him a few times in a row, trying to divide his attention between the increasingly heavy traffic surrounding them and what his brother was tossing up in the air and catching one-handed.

“Here, Sam. I’d like you to have this back, too.”

Sam finally caught sight of what it was, and his eyes widened, staying focused on the road. “Don’t, Dean. There’s too many people around us!”

Dean just grinned before he chucked the half-eaten apple at Sam’s torso.

Sam saw it coming in his peripheral vision, and he did his best to dodge it. He sucked in his gut, throwing his upper body backwards, and his legs lifted up reflexively, shifting the junk under them. The apple smacked into the door next to him, spraying pieces of sticky fruit and peel all over his arm and face.

He grimaced in disgust, jerking the Impala to the right to stay on their side of the road, immensely grateful there hadn’t been a car in the left lane to collide with. “You’re such an asshole! I could have—crap.”

The traffic light ahead of them turned red, and Sam put his foot down on the brake pedal, only to feel it stop halfway down, and he heard the telltale crunch of a water bottle. “Shit! Dean!”

Dean, meanwhile, had braced a hand on the dashboard, watching with sudden terror as the opposite traffic in the intersection came closer and closer. “Stop, Sam. Stop! Brake! BRAKE!”

“I’M TRYING!” Arms held rigid as he squeezed the steering wheel, Sam frantically kicked at the trash under the pedals. A sudden rush of desperate hysteria compelled him to stomp both feet on the brake, and he crushed the bottle under the pedal, slamming the Impala to a halt only a few feet from the intersection.

Both boys sat frozen, panting through the adrenaline rush of their near-death experience. Dean’s hand was still braced on the dashboard, and the other was raised in a protective position in front of his wide eyes. Sam’s arms and legs were all still fully extended, and he was sitting so far upright that the top of his head was pressed hard into the ceiling of the car.

They sat there so long trying to catch their breath that they both startled when the car behind them honked impatiently. The light had changed back to green without either of them realizing.

Sam visibly had to force himself to relax, practically prying his fingers from the steering wheel in order to move enough to lean down, snag the mangled water bottle out from under the brake pedal, and drop it onto a shell-shocked Dean’s lap before he could continue driving.


End file.
